We got Mellie when I was ten. We found out we were getting her on my sister's birthday and the dog tags said that she was my sister's even though the parents explained to us that it was just nominal and she was everybody's puppy. Really though, she loved my brother the best and he was devoted to her.
Mellie used to roll in dead worms to make herself smell better. She would bark nonstop whenever she wanted a cookie. Mom used to put her in bed with us to wake us up when we were little because she was a nonstop licker. When we first got the kittens she would pick them up by the scruff of the neck ever so gently and take them out into the field and leave them there. She used to steal food out of my sister's hand at the table, and back when we had Thor, our golden retriever, she would steal food from him too.
In the picture above she is sleeping on the bed under the table at the edge of the kitchen, the life heart of my parent's house. She may appear to be sleeping but she is perfectly aware of her domain. She could hear the sound of food hitting the floor anywhere in the house, and if she didn't come charging in right away, she always heard the three sharp taps we all learned to give with our toe to call her.
Mellie was the queen and the boss of our family. Even in the last couple of years when she was getting tireder, she still supervised everything that went on.
She's been a presence in my life for the last fifteen years - even after I moved out I could hear her barking over the phone. I'm having an easier time than my folks and brother of course, because I'm used to not seeing her, but I don't know what it's going to be like when I get home and she's just . . . gone.
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